


Power Hungry

by DatPony101



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Death, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Red Army, maybesmut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatPony101/pseuds/DatPony101
Summary: It all started after The End...when Tord returned to his friends, only to betray them and retrieve his robot. Things didn't go as planned, he hadn't counted on Tom's harpoon gun, and he was left in the rubble of his robot, his loyal soldiers Paul and Patryck coming to his aid. The friendship between the three and Tord was more fractured than when he left for Norway. Although each had taken a hit, Matt's directly to his face, this event would only make each stronger, if only in stronger small ways. If you look at it, The End could really just be considered the beginning...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy!
> 
> So I've been reading tons of Eddsworld fanfics, and finally have the motivation and an idea to start my own. Updates may either be quick or take forever ;^;

The plan was simple. Very simple. Not much room for error, but any mistakes could be fixed with ease. At least that's what Tord was thinking, wondering how the absolute hell he had fucked up a simple plan to the point he was plummeting to what was most likely his death.

The crash was bad, but not as terrible as it could have been. One thing was for sure _there was no way he should be alive._ The fall should have smashed him into a million pieces along with the robot, but by the smallest amount of luck he had survived. Yes he had lived...but something was wrong.

'My arm goddammit, and my eye'

He could feel the blood flowing down his arm as he slowly stood up in the midst of the rubble. As for his eye everything was just foggy...gradually he turned to face two of his most trusted and loyal soldiers Paul and Patryck. Without a word Paul began tending to his arm, which suprisingly didn't hurt, while Patryck scavenged through the ruined robot.

Tord watched Edd and Matt support Tom as they wandered away from the destroyed pieces of their house, yet he doubted they could see him. For all they knew he could be dead. His feelings were mixed on that. 

'It's probably for the best...they don't need me in their life anymore...I've really fucked up this time-'

His thought were interupted by Paul speaking.

"It's best we get moving sir. It's getting dark and your arm needs medical attention as soon as possible-"

"No."

He couldn't just leave like this. He couldn't end this on such a bad note. He couldn't-wait was it just him or was everything suddenly spinning faster-

Dispite wanting to stay longer, he collapsed on the ground, everything fading to black.

'I'm sorry Edd...'


	2. Reality - Tord

Everything was coming back into focus...dear lord his arm was killing him...why was everything so fuzzy looking...

"Oh thank god, he's still breathing...Paul hurry up with those bandages, these are already soaked through..."

"I know, I know! I'm hurrying!"

"We need to get that medic! His arm is really mashed up...honestly I don't think it can be sa-"

"Stay positive! Wait, I think he's waking up..."

As soon as the world was more or less in focus, Tord could see he was currently laying on a bed in what was probably the apartment that Paul and Patryck shared whenever they were away from the Red Army Base. He had forbade them sharing a room at the base, as he didn't necessarily approve of his soldiers having relationships, but they were an exception and he had allowed them to get the apartment.

His first instinct was to sit up, but both Paul and Pat gently restrained him.

"Sir it really isn't wise to be getting up right now." 

"But...I need to...get up...I can't be weak..."

His thoughts were as jumbled as his words, as he laid back down on the bed. He knew his arm was in pretty bad condition, but what really scared him was his right eye. Eyes were much more complex and delicate than arms. Everything was just so fuzzy and distorted on that one side...his arm could be fixed, but his eye? Ruined.

"-I don't think he's paying attention."

Tord had been so caught up in his worries he hadn't even heard Patryck talking.

"Could you, er, repeat that soldier?"

He felt foolish for not listening the first time, but tried not to show it. 

With a sigh, Patryck repeated what he had said.

"I had just suggested maybe one of the Red Army doctors could come take a look at your arm, as neither Paul or I are officially medically certified in any way...your arm needs a professionals opinion and as for your eye..."

Was his arm really that bad? Sure it hurt like hell, but with a shit ton of painkillers and medicine it would certainly start healing...or so he had hoped. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.

"If you really think it's best...have a doctor come...as for now I think I need to rest."

"Understandable."

Paul and Pat both left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He gently touched his arm, flinching as the pain intensified. Yeah, that was bad. Extremely bad. Wether he liked it or not, he had to accept that at this point his arm was useless. Even if it healed up he'd probably never be able to use it again, having it amputated would lower the chances of infection and just be better overall.

It would be rough, but he would just have to come to terms with it, unless he could figure out an alternate solution. Or maybe he could create a prosthetic arm from something...he vaugely remembered Pat scavenging around the robot after the crash...if he picked up one of the smaller arms that he had created in the robot, with slight tweaking to the programming and overall design he could possibly create himself a fully functioning arm...yes that would work nicely...

Everything was fading again and he suddenly realized just how exhausted he really was...sleeping was suddenly seeming like an amazing idea...

With a small sigh, he once again let everything go black as he fell into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Auto correct is annoying af and yet without it this would probably be x10 worse. 
> 
> Yeet


	3. Staying Strong- Tord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord makes a decision. Is it a good decision? Not even he knows the answer to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! 
> 
> This chapter is an actual good chapter in my opinion, as it's actually decent and isn't just a few paragraphs thrown together.
> 
> Enjoy!

His slumber was interupted much too soon, as what felt like only moments later he was awoken by the sound of glass shattering and a string of curses.

'Those idoits. What are they up to now...?'

Although he felt as he had only slept for a few minutes, checking the clock it turned out he had been out for at least 10 hours. He did feel quite rested, which made the rest of him feel better too. 

Tord got up of the bed, walking over to a mirror to see just exactly how bad the damage to his face was. It was pretty gruesome, even though he couldn't see much through the blood soaked bandages. Surely he'd have a whole collection of scars on the right side of his face. 

Seeing no point in just continuing to stare at his very broken self, he left the bedroom in which he had been sleeping, and went to see what all the commotion in the kitchen was about. It seemed the Pat was attempting to boil some pasta, while Paul washed up some dishes. Judging by Pat's annoyed glare and Pauls sheepish smile he concluded Paul was not doing that great.

"This is the third bowl you've broken today!" Pat shouted angrily, "You'll wake up Red Leader if you keep dropping things! And god knows he needs rest." 

"I'm trying! I've just been on edge! It's been a very stressful..." Paul never finished his sentence, as he spotted Tord approaching them.

"S-Sir! How are you feeling? Is your a-arm doing better? Do you need m-more painkillers?" Patryck stammered nervously, not very suprised by the fact Paul's clumsiness had woken Tord, but still afraid of the consequences they would receive from disturbing his sleep.

Tord really couldn't remember having any painkillers in the first place, but he decided not to comment on that.

"Some painkillers would most definitely be appreciated, Takk skal du ha." He murmured, accidentally moving his arm, causing a wave of pain spreading from his arm out to the rest of his body.

"Jævla helvete!" Tord yelled, his already messed up vision blurring, as he stumbled, falling to the ground.

Just before he hit the floor, Paul caught him, sort of. He prevented him from smashing his head against the floor, but his arm had hit the edge of a counter and he had desperately tried to grab hold of something. 

With Pat's help, Paul gently moved a very fragile Tord over to the couch. Tord was doing his very best not to cry out in pain, or to just cry in general, and it was not easy at all. He couldn't be weak. Not even now. Especially not now. How could he ever look at his two best soldiers the same again if they saw him crying, reduced to nothing more than a blubbering child? No, that would not be acceptable. 

Suddenly, an idea hit him. Was it a smart idea? Probably not. Was he going to use it? Hell yes. 

"Paul?" Tord asked quietly, waiting for a response.

"Yes?" He and Patryck were standing right beside the couch, although due to Tord's messed up vision, he hadn't realized until Paul had spoken.

"Bring me back to the base."

"..." 

Silence. 

"Paul you dolt, didn't you hear me?"

"I did...b-but-"

"Are you questioning me?"

"No sir."

"Good. I will have a short rest, and when I wake up I expect both you and Patryck ready to leave immediately. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir." 

Good. He didn't think Paul would have the nerve to question him more than once, which was good as he didn't exactly have the energy to explain his reasons. His arm was hurting, and he wanted it fixed. Well, gone really. Which could be arranged.

With his lack of sight and overall common sense, Tord stood up, and confidently walked into his bedroom. The moment the door closed he collapsed onto the bed, his false confidence deteriorating. Finally, the tears he had held back for so long dripped down his face, his mask finally gone. 

This was who he was. A lonely communist rebel leader who had betrayed his only friends and destroyed his only chances of happiness. 

With a sigh he curled up in a ball on the bed, regretting not taking any painkillers, but to stubborn to go back in the other room to get some.

He would be strong if it killed him. Even if being strong was the weakest move of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any mistakes, I've been editing this myself and I'm not too spectacular at catching my own mistakes.


End file.
